Читать книгу Freya North 3-Book Collection: Secrets, Chances, Rumours - Freya North - Страница 31

For a girl who hated the beach, Tess did a very good job of burying her head in the sand. Five days on, she hadn't contacted Joe nor had she made any attempt to look for another job. In fact she'd gone to greater lengths finding reasons to stay. Lisa she liked very much, meeting up with her and a couple of other mums almost daily. The friendships soon extended to tea and coffee at their houses where chat deepened and Tess told them that yes, she used to live in London but no, she wouldn't be returning – home was here now.

She found herself saying the same to Tamsin whom she finally phoned, spur of the moment and reverse charges from a call box near the station. Listening to the dialling tone, she was ready to confide, to ask advice, to be honest. When Tamsin answered, Tess found herself steering clear of anything to do with her situation. She didn't want to invite Tamsin to ask her what she was going to do. She couldn't tell her what had happened – it would just sound too ludicrous out loud.

I can't believe you thought Kuala Lumpur was Kate Someone-Beginning-With-L, you numpty.

Why on earth did you have a go at Joe for not kissing you?

You told him about his mother – are you mad?

He's admitted to having this woman in France? Well, what are you hanging around for?

Don't bloody phone him, Tamsin would say. She'd say, pack up your stuff and come back down here. You've done your potty Northern sojourn, now it's time to face reality. Tamsin would tell her, you're not in some Channel 4 documentary about starting a new life in some far-flung place, you know. You ran away to a seaside town in the North-East. Now you've been sacked. So come back, Tess, come back to what and where you know.

But Tess didn't want to risk Tamsin saying any of this, so she made everything sound peachy and she kept the conversation short enough so she had time and energy to phone her sister. The more upbeat she'd been on the phone to Tamsin, the more reality hit her once the call ended. She had no option other than to phone Claire and it was one call she didn't dare reverse the charges; she couldn't risk antagonizing her sister before the conversation was underway.

After pleasantries, the predictable pause. Then, the purpose of the call, which Tess requested in a voice akin to the wringing of hands. Joe had left without paying her and her funds had dwindled alarmingly. She needed her sister to help and her sister made it a horrible thing to have to ask. But Tess did ask, and after an extravagant sigh, her sister responded.

‘For God's sake, Tess, how long do you actually spend physically house-sitting? Surely you can do something else in between?’

Be nice, Tess thought, don't take offence. Claire wants to be humoured – like the last time I had to ask.

‘I did think about it – and there's a waitressing position at Virgo's which is a lovely place, it does all this gluten-free food too.’

‘Even better – they probably give you a free gluten-free meal per shift too.’

‘But Claire, the problem is Em. I looked into making arrangements for her – I scanned the local paper and the notices in the library but I worked out that what I'd be paid against what I'd pay out for childcare, would be so negligible as to be not worth it.’

‘You were in that situation in London.’

‘I know.’

‘So in other words, you've made no progress at all with your life have you.’

‘But I have! I mean, you're right of course, on a practical level – but to live like this here, in Saltburn, is much better for Em than living like this there – back in London.’

‘A change of scenery does not change a situation, Tess. God. Look, I'll pop a cheque for a hundred pounds in the post – OK? But don't bloody ask again – not till your birthday or Christmas. It's not that I can't afford it, it's that I feel I'm not doing you any favours. You've got to drag yourself out of this pit, Tess. You've been in it for long enough. I know about things like this – it becomes habit, to wallow.’

You? Claire? Know about this? When you've been provided for and kept in the manner to which you so swiftly became accustomed as soon as you met your husband? You with your joint bank account into which you put no funds? Your rich, devoted husband providing you with a chequebook and a credit card, support and approval, for your every whim?

There was so much Tess could have screamed out in her defence – but she didn't dare, not during this phone call.

‘It's easier said than done,’ she said quietly instead.

‘What about Child Benefit?’

‘It's a standing order into my bank account.’

‘Well then!’

‘But my bank card—’

‘Christ, Tess. I mean – honestly!’

Tess had to swallow down hard – on her pride and on tears. ‘Claire – please help. I won't ask again. I'm only asking you now because—’

‘God! Come on then – give me your address,’ and the tedium in Claire's voice could so easily have reduced Tess to tears. If she wasn't so desperate, if she had more pride, if she felt more up, if Joe hadn't left, she might just have said, stuff your bloody money.

‘Your address, Tess? I have to pick up the kids.’

‘Could you not send cash?’

‘Don't be ridiculous.’

‘But if you send a cheque the bank will just swallow it whole.’

‘For God's sake, Tess, how can you live like this?’

‘Because at the moment, I have no choice.’

‘Don't be so defeatist. Life is what you make it.’

‘All I wanted was to make a good life – but things didn't go my way.’

‘Well, change bloody direction then.’

‘That's what I'm trying to do.’

‘I can't send cash in the post.’

‘Could you perhaps send a postal order?’

‘Do they still do such things?’

‘Yes, they do.’

‘You need to do something, Tess. Seriously. It's pathetic.’

‘I have been trying. For over two years, I've been trying. I continue to try. Why do you always imply it's something I have the power to change?’

‘Oh, come on – don't do the feeling-sorry-for-yourself act, or absolving yourself of responsibility. You can't be blameless in this situation and therefore there must be something you can do – something other than holding the fort for some old fart, dusting his doorknobs and putting out the rubbish. Why don't you get a proper job?’

‘I just said why. Anyway, this is a proper job – and it's board and lodging too.’

‘Well, why not ask Lord of the Manor to pay you more? Do his ironing or cooking or something. You'll still have time for his doorknobs and dusting.’

‘He's not here often enough.’ Tess held the receiver against her chest and rested her forehead against the glass. Oh Joe, you're not here nearly enough. Please, please come back. Please, please let me stay. ‘Please, Claire.’ She tapped her head against the glass and closed her eyes. ‘I'm – begging you.’

‘OK. OK. Give me the address. I'll sort it tomorrow. I've got to go, Tess. God.’

The relief of banknotes. The feel of their oily, parchmenty surface. The smell of them. The Queen's face, benevolent. The novel sensation of closing her wallet with the notes inside causing a slight resistance when she folded the leather, like a foot in a door; something in there at last. Thank you, Your Majesty.

Tess bought Em a shiny foil windmill and she treated them to soup at Virgo's. She had a window seat. Every mouthful was ambrosial after all that Marmite and toast. One of the mums she'd befriended walked by and waved. Life didn't seem so bad when there was good food in one's stomach and money in the pot and a friendly face waving, hey, Tess. And then the sun came out and Seb sauntered past just as she dunked the complimentary biscotti in her cappuccino.

On the other side of the window, Seb made the universal gesture for sipping a hot beverage, to which Tess shrugged and smiled and nodded that he could join her.

‘Hey there, stranger,’ he said, lowering his voice when he saw that Em was sleeping. ‘If I'd waited by my phone, I'd be fossilized by now.’

In her need over the last few days to suspend reality, Tess had forgotten about Seb's number on the calendar, about his trip away, about his previous offer of fish and chips and a DVD. ‘I'm sorry, Seb – something came up. It's been really full-on recently. I was going to ring – tonight.’

‘Yeah, right.’

She reddened; it sounded stupid and flagrantly untrue. But because he'd nobbled her so sweetly, she could scrunch her napkin and chuck it at him.

‘I was!’

‘Baby's asleep,’ Seb noticed. ‘That means I don't need to watch my language. So – what a day, what a fucking awesome day.’

His eyes were a little watery, the irises vivid, the whites a little bloodshot as if he'd just come out of the sea.

‘Nice waves?’ Tess tried. ‘Swell swell – or whatever the correct surfing terminology is?’

Seb laughed. ‘Nothing to do with the sea – though I was out first thing. No – you are looking at one rich fucker.’ He leant back in the chair and patted his puffed-up chest.

‘How so? Is that why you went away? You were only away for a week.’

‘Yeah, and I've been back a week too. No – I went to see rellies down in Cornwall – you know, we trade surf every couple of months. It's an awesome day today because of a nice fat insurance payout that's come my way.’ Seb said it as if it could have happened to anyone in the town that Tuesday morning. Apart from Tess, it seemed, who looked confused. ‘A couple of years ago I was in a car crash. My friend was driving. I sued him. The money came through today.’

‘You sued your friend?’

‘Yep.’

She baulked.

Seb laughed. ‘He's a lawyer – he told me to. It was his idea.’

‘And is he still your friend?’

‘Still a lawyer, still my buddy – despite the fact that I now set the alarms off when I go through airport security on account of the metal in my back and leg. Anyway, do you want a cake to go with your coffee? Lunch is on me.’ Seb gave a rather fey wave.

‘I can't eat another thing,’ Tess said.

Seb leant back in his seat and looked at her. ‘Will you keep me company, then?’

How nice to be asked. Tess looked at the milky foam clinging to the coffee cup and nodded.

He talked with his mouth full. He was ravenous, slightly hyper, pronging his food a number of times before it stuck to the fork. He had mayonnaise on his chin. He made her laugh and he did a lot of laughing himself. He insisted on paying for her lunch and she thought it would be rude not to accept though she was happy enough to go Dutch. They loitered on the pavement, Tess fiddling her feet along the line between slabs, Seb making small talk in unfinished sentences.

‘Thanks for lunch then.’

‘Pleasure, Tess, my pleasure. I was thinking of – I'm not working this afternoon. I don't know – do you want to go for a walk?’

Tess looked at the buggy as if it was as cumbersome and inappropriate as a pair of high heels. ‘I can't really,’ she said.

Seb didn't look at the buggy, or at Tess's feet. He just looked at her face and gave a disappointed smile. ‘Another time, then.’

Tess nodded. ‘Sure.’

He paused, as if he was about to sneeze. ‘Like – Friday night?’

‘Night?’

‘A date, Tess. Not a walk. I'm saying let's go out on a proper date, on Friday night – babysitting depending, of course. What do you say?’

Tess found she didn't feel like backing away behind her customary reticence. She felt like staying exactly where she was, with the sunlight squinting her face into a grin, buying a little time to mull the offer. And when she accepted she realized the first person she'd be telling – and soon – was not Tamsin for advice, but Lisa for a babysitting favour.

‘Phone me if there's a problem,’ Seb said, ‘otherwise, I'll see you right – here!’ And he stamped his foot as if marking the spot.

‘OK,’ Tess laughed, ‘unless you hear from me, I'll be right – here.’ And she nudged his shoe out of the way so she could tap hers on the precise place on the pavement.

‘Cool.’ He smiled and he lingered and then he executed a strange bounce on the spot, which tipped his body forward and enabled him to kiss Tess lightly on the lips, regain his composure and saunter off before she could quite register just what had happened. A little way off, he cast a glance over his shoulder to find Tess standing stock-still. He turned, walking backwards for a couple of steps. Then he pointed to the auspicious paving stone with a broad grin before turning again and strolling away.

Tess thought, he's just kissed me. Kissed me for a second time. With more intent than the first time though it was quicker and more chaste. She thought, I've been asked on a proper date. She thought, Seb's fun and good-looking and he's just kissed me and asked me out. And she thought, I must phone Lisa straight away. She walked briskly back up to the house, phoned Lisa who sounded happy to supply the favour and Tess found that, with not much arm-twisting, she was telling Lisa that yes, it was a date and that the guy seems really nice. Yes, good-looking too – in that windswept surfer-boy kind of way. From Australia. Our sort of age. Perhaps younger, actually. No, not a toyboy – we might be mums but surely we are not old enough for toyboys, are we?

Unable to sleep, it was only when Tess went down to the kitchen for a glass of water and caught sight of Seb's number on top of Joe's, that she realized she hadn't thought of Joe since Seb appeared at the window of Virgo's. A good eight hours of respite, she calculated. Tamsin would probably say this was no bad thing.

Wondering what to wear wasn't a problem – finding the time to change at all was. Tess prioritized Em – writing a list of likes and dislikes, a timetable of what Lisa could expect and when, and adding Seb's mobile number on every page. The likelihood was that Em wouldn't stir, but as Tess would be uncontactable unless Seb's mobile was in signal, she wanted to cover all options. Apart from her work days in London, she'd actually never left Em before, not in nineteen months, certainly not for her own leisure. She had not been out in the evening, let alone on a date, in all that time. During the afternoon, she started to feel that the whole thing was a little self-indulgent. By early evening, though, she couldn't ignore a frisson of anticipation.

Lisa arrived. Em was asleep. Wolf was fed and had been out for his ablutions and was now prostrate at the foot of the stairs. Lisa marvelled at the expanse of hallway before narrowing her gaze to focus on Tess, looking her up and down.

‘What are you wearing?’

Tess looked at her clothes. She was wearing what she always wore.

‘Is that what you are wearing tonight?’

Tess paused. ‘I'm not sure.’

‘Well, off you go and get sure – Mary Poppins is here.’

‘Oh, about that – here's a list.’

Lisa flipped through the pages, which she then rolled up and used as a truncheon against Tess's arm. ‘A list? It's an encyclopaedia! Have you forgotten my son is the same age as your daughter?’

‘I know – I know, it's just I haven't—’ ‘I know – you said. I'm teasing. It's fine.’ And Lisa gave Tess's arm a little stroke. ‘So show me around, show me everything. It's like Buckingham Bleeding Palace compared to my place. Oh fuck – look at that dog.’

‘He's harmless.’

‘He's huge. He looks so—’

‘Shh! You'll hurt his feelings.’

They stared at the great lumbering bulk of Wolf, twitching in his sleep, the pads of his paws looking like dirty pebbles, his coat appearing to have been stolen from a hobo, his oversized tongue looking synthetically pink amidst all the wiry grey and matted brown. ‘It won't suddenly turn on me when you've left, will it?’

‘He's a he. And no, he won't. He's soppy and gorgeous.’

They had to mountaineer over him for Tess to give Lisa the guided tour.

‘My place – including the garden – would fit into the entrance hall. I can see why you'll not be leaving anytime soon. What's he like – the chap who owns it?’

Tess tried to counteract the pause with a light tone of voice. ‘Oh, he's fine – not here much.’ She ignored Lisa, looking at her askance. Lisa was starting to remind Tess of Tamsin, which both amused and unnerved her.

‘This your room then?’

‘Come on in,’ said Tess, ‘help me find something to wear.’

After assessing all the clothes Tess owned, Lisa looked at her. ‘You're in serious need of a shopping trip, pet.’

‘I need to win the lottery first,’ Tess said.

‘So, it's jeans or that denim skirt with the stain?’

‘Yes – and that polo neck or any of those T-shirts. It's what they call a capsule wardrobe.’

‘It's what I'd call my biggest nightmare.’

Lisa looked at the clothes thoughtfully. Then she looked at Tess. She thought of her own husband, happy to babysit while she nipped to Yarm to shop. She thought of their cosy but smart two-up, two-down in which he was always tinkering – replacing the plastic sockets with smart chrome, building a breakfast bar, putting in low-voltage lighting, glossing all the sills, skirting and doors. Their home, their castle. A lucky couple – completed eighteen months ago with the arrival of much-wanted baby Sam. She thought of her husband now, babysitting so she could help out her new friend. Happy enough with his takeaway pizza and a couple of tinnies and some crap on telly he wouldn't dream of foisting on her. Bless him.

‘What's he like, then – tell me again?’

‘As I said, he's – he's not here much.’ She paused to dwell on a mental image of Joe, lovely, painful. ‘He's in his forties. He's funny and moody and you could say handsome. He builds bridges. He took me to the Transporter and told me about the Halfpenny Bridge.’

Lisa didn't take her eyes off Tess.

‘I wasn't talking about His Nibs – I was talking about Seb.’

Tess gave Lisa an exaggerated silly-me look.

‘Oh, Seb – like I said, he's – nice. Charming. Chatty. Sporty.’

‘And you've had one snog and one quick kiss-with-subtitles?’

Tess laughed at this. ‘On paper – yes.’

‘What does that mean!’

‘It means both times I sort of suddenly found myself in the process of being kissed.’

‘Did you kiss back?’

‘The second time was so fast.’

‘The first time then?’

Tess remembered her tongue taking over instinctively because her mind was too slow to react. She nodded.

‘Right then, lady,’ Lisa said and before Tess could express any opinion, Lisa had taken off her own skirt (it was cute: vivid blue, corduroy, A-line, just above the knee) and stood waiting in her tights, arms crossed, while Tess put it on.

‘Suits you!’

‘Do you think so?’ Tess moved this way and that in front of the mirror, slightly in awe of what she saw.

‘Look at yourself, Tess – look at the pins on you! It's a crime to hide them. Do something with your hair, though. Get your slap on. You can take my lippy with you – it's only from Boots but it's called Honeytrap and with you in that skirt, it'll do what it says on the packet.’

Borrowing some shapeless old jogging pants off Tess, Lisa went downstairs. Tess sat in front of the mirror and said, hair, what am I going to do with you?

Mascara helped. And a carefully mussed-up ponytail that took ages to perfect completed the look. She sat there a while longer than she needed. She felt displaced all of a sudden – as if dates were hugely adventurous even risky pursuits undertaken by other more qualified people. She thought of Em. And tried not to. She thought of Wolf and tried not to. She didn't let herself think of Joe. She said out loud that she would borrow Lisa's sure-fire lipstick, if the offer still stood. She looked at herself in the mirror and said, you look stupid, you don't look like you. But then she heard Lisa hiss from downstairs that Tess was late, to get a move on or risk being stood up.

She was late but he didn't stand her up. He was waiting for her at the specific paving stone and he took her to the pub at the bottom of Saltburn Bank. It used to be a dive, Lisa had told her. Minging, she said. But now it was the place to go, all fancy decked verandas speckled with little bright blue halogen lights, woodwork painted in New England colours. Lisa had told her, you don't go to the bog there any more – they've restrooms now with polished granite and all. It had a commanding position too, with 360-degree views and an interrupted vista out to sea, hence its new name, the Vista Mar. Tess had never seen it by night. Swish for Saltburn. Then she thought, she hadn't really seen Saltburn by night either – only when passing through by car on the way to the Transporter Bridge.

Stop it! This night has nothing to do with Joe.

‘Loving your hair,’ Seb said. ‘What are you drinking?’

‘Wine, I think.’

Eye contact, Tess, eye contact.

They stayed until last orders. Somehow, she managed to elicit plenty of details about Seb's life without revealing too many of her own. Tess's grandmother always said she was a good listener, for Tess though it usefully precluded too much personal exposure on her part. Her grandmother would have deemed him easy on the eye and Tess would have agreed with her on that one. He was easy to listen to as well, especially on account of his accent. She still had no desire to surf by the end of the evening but his adventures on the waves were entertaining in their own right, as were his tales of Australia and his relatives’ acres in Cornwall. Two ex-girlfriends of any note, one or two rebound flings, a couple of good-time girls this last year. Nothing serious. How about you, Tess?

‘Oh, my family live abroad.’

‘Do you visit?’

‘We're not close, really.’

‘And work?’

‘I'm house-sitting at the moment.’

‘Taking a breather?’

‘I suppose so. Though I find it very satisfying. But I needed a change of scene.’

‘Wise. And men? If you don't mind me asking?’

‘You are nosy, aren't you? Nothing very juicy for you – no one special, really. The teenage sweetheart who was eventually more like a brother. The college boyfriend who I graduated on from once I'd graduated. One one-night stand which was one too many. Em's father, of course – but I wouldn't know how to begin to describe him.’

‘A wanker?’

‘Seb!’

‘Special?’

‘Unique is probably a fairer word.’

‘How so?’

‘He's a free spirit. He's in the wrong decade – he needs San Francisco at the height of hippydom.’

‘Shirks his responsibility, does he?’

‘Not intentionally.’

‘Sorry – tell me to shut up if I'm prying and we'll talk about the weather.’

‘Let's talk about the weather, then.’

‘You don't want to talk about him, do you?’

‘Well –’

‘Do you know how I can tell? It's because you've gone a bit twitchy – here, on your lips, just here.’ Seb's fingertip stayed against Tess's mouth and his eyes bore through hers.

‘Shall we go?’

‘Go where?’

‘Back to mine?’

Her mouth was twitching again, she could sense it.

‘There's a bottle of white in the fridge,’ he said as if surely that could seal the deal.

‘I mustn't be too late.’

‘Just a glass of vino back at mine, Tess, not a pyjama party.’

A compact, modern, second-floor apartment on the other side of town.

‘Furniture isn't mine.’

She didn't think it was.

‘It's all in with the rent. Not bad really.’

Bathroom could be cleaner. Yesterday's paper open on the sofa. An odd shoe, kicked off in front of the TV set. Washing-up to be done. The housekeeper in her thought, he could make more of an effort. The girl in her said, he's a boy! give him a break! so what if there's a lads’ mag peeping out from under that chair and a Little Britain DVD out of its case on top of the speaker? Then she thought, that's an unopened bottle of wine and it isn't plonk. She rather thought he'd put it in the fridge with a wink and a wish before he came out tonight. She told herself, you're on a date, he asked you and in his own sweet way, he's planned for the evening to unfold.

‘It's nothing like your place,’ Seb was saying, motioning her to the sofa while he set two glasses of wine on the coffee table, ‘but it's home.’

‘It's not my place,’ Tess said, because she didn't want to be distracted by thoughts of that beautiful old building, of Em and Lisa and Wolf. Joe. She needed to concentrate on the veneer coffee table and the very white mantelpiece that surrounded no fireplace, only a slab of marble. This was her, here and now, and if she didn't make the most of it, what would have been the point of Lisa's skirt and Tess's sheaves of notes and the lipstick and the hairdo and finally, finally, making it out all on her own. ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers.’

They sipped self-consciously and Tess glanced around for a clock.

‘I mustn't be late.’

‘You won't be. It's only a ten-minute walk.’

‘Fifteen after all the wine I've consumed!’

‘You drunken slag,’ Seb teased and it made Tess giggle which made Seb think, now's my chance and he put their wineglasses down and reached for her. His mouth found hers and his hands honed in on what they'd fancied all evening long. Tess liked the way he kissed, the way he sucked her lips, she liked the taste of another tongue and the way it rudely probed her mouth as if asking personal questions. The feeling of her breasts being fondled was tantalizing and she found herself thinking, you can use your mouth, Seb, if you want to. He took her hand and led it down to the bulge in his trousers and though initially he had to grip her wrist and move it for her, when he let go she continued. The reality of a stiff cock was suddenly exciting to her and she felt her hips starting to gyrate instinctively. His hands were travelling up her thighs, politely spending non-focused attention there before surreptitiously working her tights down.

‘Oh, for fuck's sake,’ he said, laughing, as he hoicked her legs akimbo and peeled her tights away. Suddenly, he was pressing his mouth against the gusset of her pants and inhaling ravenously. Tess felt strangely paralysed, her body saying, yes please, more; her head saying, you really should be going now. It was like reading a book at bedtime, looking ahead for a convenient place to fold the corner of a page and call it a night. But, just like an easy read, she kept passing over line breaks and full stops for others further on. One more kiss, then I'll go. Actually, I'll just take my bra off – just for a minute or two. But actually, he's fingering around inside my knickers and – God, that feels good. Perhaps it would be really nice to come before I go.

He had a finger pulling her knicker elastic aside, his tongue slipping into the space this created, his tongue licking through the folds of her sex, dabbing at her, lapping her up. She didn't want to look at the ceiling and turning her face one way gave the disruption of the TV set on with the volume off. Turning the other gave her a faceful of pastel swirls of the upholstery. But if she looked down, she saw a blond, tousle-haired man called Seb busy with his tongue between her legs and that sight was too specific. She shut her eyes to focus on the feeling alone. She just wanted to concentrate on the tremors building in her body from her sex being licked so well. Was it horribly self-serving to close her eyes so that it didn't matter who was doing it? By now, she just wanted to come, to have a man make her come, to come on the mouth of a man.

Her hips were rocking hard to facilitate her orgasm which came in a gush of such intense pleasure that it wracked her body and her voice rang out in the soundless room.

And then it all ebbed away. The throbbing, the sound of her, the presence of him.

‘You can open your eyes now,’ Seb laughed but it took effort for Tess to unscrunch them. When she did, she needed to concentrate on the buttons of his shirt. She didn't want the bigger picture. She wanted, really, to leave. She felt emotional, a bit drunk, confused how her body could have been so sure when her mind was still wanting to mull it all over.

Black buttons on a navy blue shirt.

‘My turn?’ He sounded shy, hopeful. The thought hadn't crossed her mind.

And Seb was suddenly straddling her, unbuckling, unzipping, whipping it out.

How long since she saw a cock? The sight of it, of Seb's strong surfer's legs, of the way he was breathing, stroking her hair, grabbing her pony-tail, helped to put thoughts of heading home to one side. She played with his balls and fingered the length of him, kissing her way up the shaft, and tongue-flicked lightly over the top before taking him in her mouth, sucking him all the way down. She shifted so that she could use her hands too but she couldn't get comfortable. Her neck was a bit cricked and her jaw was locking and when she opened her eyes she saw her shoes and suddenly she longed to be on her way. Come on, come on. Come.

‘Can I come in your mouth?’

No, Tess thought suddenly. I do not want you to come in my mouth.

She pulled away, hoping for the sake of her conscience and his ego that she looked a little bashful, apologetic.

‘That's OK,’ he was saying. ‘I guess a full-on shag is out, then?’

She giggled. Dear Seb, so easygoing, funny, kind. She wished she felt more.

He sank back into the sofa and drew her to his chest. She watched his hand slide up and down his shaft. She tiptoed her fingertips over his stomach and down to his arm and along his hand, which he gladly accepted. He was close so she took over. He was clenching his fists and his teeth, his eyes screwed shut, his legs tensing, his pelvis thrusting as he spurted over his stomach.

He panted with the triumph of having just run some race. He pulled her to his chest and stroked her hair. She listened to his heart beating fast, then settling.

‘When can I see you again?’

He was looking down at her, his gaze intense.

Tess suddenly felt enormously tired, too tired to think about the answer so she nodded and smiled and let him kiss her gently. He went to the bathroom and by the time he was back, she was dressed, her shoes on, standing by the door insisting there was no need whatsoever for him to escort her up that steep old hill to the house.

The moonlight and the solitude are soothing. Tess thinks how you don't get this quality of darkness in the city. The woods to her left appear to have a depth ten times that in daylight. They are eerie, not malevolent, but she feels tiny and cold. No traffic. No people. She can hear the sea and it sounds brutish – as if it is on best behaviour during the day. The chill air sobers her up and she finds her pace increasing when the house comes into sight. One of the things she has grown to love more than anything is the opening of the gate and then the closing of the gate. Home and safe.

Lisa arrives in the hallway just as soon as Tess is inside and has shut the door.

‘How was it?’

Tess's new friend in Tess's cruddy old trackie bottoms. Lisa is all expectant and she's grinning away.

‘Fun,’ says Tess, with a nod and a smile. ‘I had fun.’

‘Fun and?’ Lisa is digging with a wink. ‘Any – shenanigans?’

‘Well,’ Tess pauses. This reminds her of a long time ago, sharing juicy details with Tamsin, the look on a friend's face of excitement and anticipation – and praise. ‘We did go back to his for a glass of wine.’

‘A glass of wine and?’

‘And – a bit of a fumble.’

‘A fumble!’ Lisa all but cheers. ‘A fumble she calls it!’ She pauses. ‘Did you?’

‘On a first date?’

‘Not sure I'd have your self-restraint, pet. But good on you. Will you see him again? I'll gladly babysit. You just let me know.’

Tess nods. ‘Thanks so much, by the way.’

‘As I said, any time,’ Lisa says, gathering her stuff, and she gives Tess a little hug because she's really glad this lovely girl was paid some attention tonight. She deserves it, thinks Lisa, good for her.

‘Thanks again.’

‘Happy to help.’

‘See you at playgroup next week?’

‘Perhaps before. How about tomorrow morning? Pop over to mine for a cuppa?’

Lisa has gone. Em has been checked on. Tess is sitting at the base of the stairs hugging Wolf who is at her side. She glances left. The answering machine still says zero. Something inside sinks a little.